


Groundhog Grayson

by Scribblemakes



Category: The Sexy Brutale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Groundhog Day, Alternate Universe - Real, Death, Greyson gets no help from the Bloody Girl, Greyson is dealing with the events as they happen, Greyson is the protagonist, If it was in the game it's mentioned here, Lots of mention of the bad stuff that happens, M/M, None of the deaths are permanent!, Violence, it does have a happy ending i promise, so deaths are mentioned even after they happen but only Greyson knows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-10-31 01:24:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17839748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribblemakes/pseuds/Scribblemakes
Summary: Greyson Grayson woke up on the day of the party and was already ready to search for the egg Lucas had hinted to the evening before. He had been looking for years and there it was, just in the theatre, the Moloch Egg. It was something from a dream, standing surrounded by golden bars and the glorifying light of the theatre. Redd had found it, and Greyson had been stuck to it. He was stuck to it as Redd panicked, he was stuck to it as Redd died, and he was stuck to it as the spikes above him lowered. Greyson spent his last moments staring up at death.Greyson Grayson woke up on the day of the party.





	1. The Groundhog Surfaces

The Sexy Brutale, a grand casino in the heart of a grand mansion that tempted you to leave an equally grand dent in the alcohol supply. It figured that Greyson’s first thought was of the casino floor, where drink flowed freely, when his eyes opened to the see the ceiling and cause his head to split. The world shifted uncomfortably as he sat up and held his forehead, waiting for the grandfather clock ahead of him to decide if it had a twin or not, and as it settled he made to stand up with another pained groan.

 

He barely paid mind to a door behind him opening and hurried footsteps coming towards him. It wasn’t until Redd’s pinched brow, only just visible under the mask, came into view that he blinked and looked up from contemplating his previous spot on the floor. He felt his expression twitch as something snagged at his memory, something about Redd.

 

“Greyson?” Redd gripped Grey’s shoulders gently, leading him back to sit on a couch set in a small waiting area, “Grey, are you alright?”

 

“I think I may have had a few too many,” Greyson huffed, rubbing the heel of his hand to his eye and smiling even though he couldn’t remember drinking. He made a mental note to seek one of the waiters for a pain killer when the motion set off a spark of pain through his skull, ideally when he didn’t have a concerned Redd hovering over him. “I’ll be fine, just direct me to the- to-” he paused, pulling at his memory for the information that was eluding him, before clapping with a grin, “to the office! Yes. Did you find it?”

 

“I did, just came back to tell you about it actually,” Redd looked on as Grey stood and brushed off his jacket and tie, the same pinch back to his brow, “Is something going on? I thought you were right behind me.”

 

“I was, just a little caught up in this marvelous décor,” he flashed a hand to encompass their surroundings, making a point of staring at the margarita dispenser before grinning at Redd. His quip appeared to smooth out the wrinkles by his partner-in-crime’s eyes, which was enough for Redd to let the strange behaviour slip, he reasoned. He stepped past him and headed towards the door he’d heard opening, listening for the heavier footsteps of Redd behind him before entering.

 

The office was a bust, as Redd had expected and also predicted the next room would be. Greyson did feel the slightest accomplishment when he found the safe behind the painting, if just to prove to Redd that there was  _ something _ in the room even if it was some of Thanos’ more cliché work, but found that quickly dashed when it only turned out a small lighter. He left the safe open, hopefully Thanos stewed on it, and turned back to Redd, “This is not an egg.”

 

Redd turned to look at him and blinked, staring at him and then the safe for a split second before smiling, “Glad to see you’re not torn up about it.”

 

“Ah, I have faith in us! We’ll find it,” he spun on his heel, heading towards the door beside him with a final wave to Redd to search the theatre through the other door. The room before him was familiar, an attachment to a well-searched theatre, but the switch in front of him felt new. New, but not wholly unknown, the thought gave him pause as he considered it before a shout from Redd had him tearing his eyes away from the strange room.

 

The theatre was deserted when he stepped into it, except for Redd making his way up onto the stage and toward the prize he’d been searching the godforsaken mansion for over the years. The sight of the Moloch Egg, the cause for his search and the delivery into a new height of living, filled him with the excitement he expected, but the sight of Redd approaching the cage it was held in soured the feeling just enough for notice. He didn’t consider himself a jealous man, and Redd deserved a cut of whatever the egg sold for after all the lifting and look out duty the man had done for him, but the worry must still have settled on his face enough for Redd to step toward him.

 

“I  _ knew _ he had it!” He said with as much excitement he could muster into his voice, and felt late to his own conversation, “That crazy rich bastard!”

 

Redd watched him, that frown back, and Grey stroked his beard with nothing else to do with his hands. Redd did look away then, turning to the egg and replacing his concern over Greyson with unsettled worry, “Something’s not right. Wasn’t tonight’s show some kind of awful “death-defying-escape”?”

 

Something brushed past his memory again, like a static shock, and he tried to shake it off with a step closer to his treasure, “Redd, in all seriousness. This is all time that I  _ could _ be spending taking a closer look at that egg…”

 

“Greyson, wait,” Redd took a step to match him, a small motion that stopped Greyson faster than his words had, “look at those spikes! And those- what are those?” Redd gestured to the side of the cage and turned his worry-wide eyes on Greyson, “Electrical Pylons? Can we just check to make sure nothing is like, plugged in, or turned on… Before you get in the awful death-cage? Please?”

 

“Fine,” he let his eyes flicker to Redd and watched him turn, “Let’s go make sure this is all turned off- or disconnected- or whatever.”

 

He felt his worry ease as Redd step further away from the cage, headed for backstage, and managed to bring his joy back into his voice, “What would I do without you to look out for me, Redd!”

 

“Ha- You know it!” Redd replied, stepping through the back door and leaving Greyson alone on the theatre stage with the Moloch Egg. It was the prize he’d been working so hard to find after so long, a treasure Lucas had been dangling in front of him during his employment and possibly before, it seemed appropriate he got a look without another person about. Still, there was a chance it was another fake, Lucas was ever fond of false trails and watching Greyson sulk over another dead end. He would have to check, despite the tickling pinch of something that surely wasn’t dread spread across his back when he got closer.

 

The moment he felt bands snap across his wrists should have been worrying, but the brief thought of “again” worried him more. Redd was right, something was wrong, but he was starting to believe it wasn’t just with the stage, the egg, the knives -  _ spikes _ \- suspended above him. Shouting for Redd didn’t help, his panicked face at the edge of his vision only made his thoughts spin back to running, to getting Redd far away from the  _ electrified _ cage, to how he already knew Redd wasn’t going to find anything in that side room that could help. He was already shaking against the egg’s shackles as the spikes of death began their descent and Redd ran to the odd switch in the other room. Each yell felt strangled, torn from his throat, like his body wanted nothing more than to stop calling for Redd.

 

“Greyson! Greyson I’m sorry!” Redd came crashing back onto the stage and from his periphery Grey could see him getting closer, “I couldn’t stop it!”

 

His thundering footsteps cracked into Greyson’s head more than the cheery music was.

 

“I’ll get you out! I’LL GET YOU OUT, I PROMISE!”

 

“What-” and it came back, all at once, and the sickening sound of metal rattling and charging Redd with enough energy to send him across the stage drew a wretched cry from his mouth even when Redd didn’t so much as scream. He couldn’t see Redd, couldn’t the first time, and the thought of seeing him lying dead was somehow more terrifying than the spikes he’d already felt. 

 

“I’M SORRY!” He couldn’t see clearly, but the creaking of the spikes lowering and the curtains drawing was enough, “REDD! PLEASE! I DIDN’T KNOW!”

 

The spikes hovered over him before slamming down, and the pain was just as it was last time, and the music was just as it was last time, and the smell of burnt hair was just as it was-

 

\-----

 

He shuddered as a clock somewhere ahead of him chimed 12, fingers tight over his shoulders as he curled up further on the floor. 

 

“Greyson?” He listened as Redd stepped into the room, heard his breathing shift as he found Greyson clutching himself on the floor, “Grey! What happened?!”

 

He struggled to pull himself together and mentally cheered, if weakly, when he managed to sit up with Redd supporting his back. It took him a few more moments to look at Redd and the wide eyed concern there shattered him.

“Redd, please,” he reached out and took one of Redd’s lapels, just feeling the whole and quickening heartbeat underneath it, “I didn’t know, Redd. Please.”

 

“Grey, I don’t-” his eyes flickered, seemingly attempting to find some physical ailment on Grey, “I don’t know what you’re saying. What didn’t you know?”

 

He shook his head and took whatever breaths his body was allowing him. He could still smell the blood and burn, he could feel the spikes through him and the agony being suspended from a ceiling of knives did. He didn’t notice his breath stuttering until Redd pressed a hand to his chest and brought him back to the panic inducing sight of Redd not dead yet, but soon.

 

“Grey, I’m going to take off your mask,” he shuffled to reach the latch without dislodging him from his arm, “I think it’s messing with your breathing.”

 

He heard the latch click and felt Redd reaching to pull the mask to the side, “Redd, wait-”

 

\-----

 

12 chimes again, on the floor again. He shuddered for good measure, and didn’t bother standing to drag himself to the couch behind him.

 

“Greyson! What happened? Are you hurt?” Redd ran over to him and was instantly looking over his legs, catching himself just before touching, “I heard you fall, did you trip?”

 

“Redd, listen,” he grabbed his friend’s lapel again, pulling him away and up to look him in the eye, “Something’s wrong.”

 

“I know, you’re shaking,” Redd’s mouth twitched, a forced and awkward attempt at a smile, “Usually you prefer stirred.”

 

Redd didn’t know, he realised, Redd thought he’d fallen and not died, he didn’t know they died.

 

“Grey, what is it?” He leant closer, just on the edge of appropriate and past close enough to see the worry lines around his eyes, “If it’s the egg, I’m sure we’ll find-”

 

“NO!” His hand twitched, pushing Redd back just enough that Grey felt immediate regret at Redd’s sad expression. “No, no I just- I must’ve tripped, had a bit too much,” he laughed, as strained and awkward as Redd’s smile, “You know me, can’t turn down Clay’s challenges.”

 

Redd looked thrown before pulling on that smile, the fake one he used when Greyson said something even he, himself, didn’t believe, and offered his hand, “I should be thanking you for telling me where my brother is, then.”

 

He took the hand and stood, knowing the strength displayed in just that would have let Redd rip that door off that cage and surely the giant of a man knew it before he- “Don’t thank me yet, there’s a lot of tables for him to be under.”

 

“Noted,” he said and took his hand back, his smile returning to something more relaxed as he turned from Greyson to the door he came from, “If you’re feeling up to it, I found the office. We can look for that egg quickly before I head off to Tequila’s performance.”

 

“Looking to get out so quickly?” he asked, “And here I was thinking you enjoyed my company.”

 

“And here I was thinking you’d come watch me play,” Redd hummed and started walking back the way he’d come in. Watching Redd walk, whole and alive, eased the pressure from his chest. Redd dying to save him felt more distant with each step after him. Redd was a good man but not a stupid one, if it had all been real surely he would’ve gone looking for something else rather than throwing himself at certain death. He nearly laughed at himself, feeling a hint of embarrassment at being frightened by some alcohol induced nightmare that rattled the intoxication right out of him. If he’d known the cure to drunkenness was a good scare he’d have asked Reginald to set up some kind of nightmare machine years before.

 

He stepped through the door after Redd and glanced around the room, already feeling the confidence he’d started with come creeping back in.

 

“Anyway,” Redd started, looking up from the papers he’d been idly shuffling through to look at Grey, “Why do you want this… This egg? Why do you want it so badly?”

 

“I told you,” he felt his mouth dry, the lingering edges of memory clutching at that confidence and starting to tear it apart, “it’s not just “an egg”.”

 

He let his body turn on autopilot, his voice sending his mind spiralling into “ _ again, again, again” _ as he looked at a lighter in a poorly concealed safe. The egg was there, as his mind turned to plots and Lucas somehow orchestrating an elaborate scheme to get Greyson off the egg’s trail for good. He took the thought into consideration just enough to look the egg over, looking for marks or seams, and came up empty. The egg was magnificently cold even in the theatre lights, and he found the bands seemed to be ready for wherever he put his hands.

 

He looked up as Redd came back into the room, and realised his mistake.

 

“Greyson! Why… Why is the electricity on?!” He could see the pull of his frown underneath the mask and the downturn of his lips and, lord he could see the front of the cage.

 

“I…” Lucas must have set this up, he was doing a bloody good job scaring him off the egg, “Someone locked me in here!”

 

“What! Who?!” Redd never would’ve agreed to a plot like that, something less extreme maybe but not faking his own death, Greyson was sure.

 

“I DON’T KNOW!” he silently cursed himself, too distracted by his own thoughts to have looked, “I DIDN’T SEE!”

 

“I can’t get the cage open… My hair is standing on end just being near the door…”

 

Even if Redd did agree to it, he was never a good actor. Greyson tried his hands again before stilling, trying to read Redd’s face for any sign he was in on it, “Redd, my hands are trapped. Really trapped.”

 

“What do you mean?” he asked, concern twisting his face further, “Are you hurt?”

 

“No… It’s just…” could Lucas read nightmares? Maybe Sixpence invented some device that could and this was Lucas’ grand idea to test it out, “Like metal bands that snapped over my hands.”

 

“Can you get to your picks?”

 

“NO I CAN’T GET TO MY F-” he took a breath, seeing Redd’s face flicker to hurt and back was worse than hearing him leave the first time, and the second time, he was going to take apart Lucas’ office for this, “I can’t get to my picks!”

 

“If I can get in there, I can snap those bands, I’m sure…”

 

“Redd, I’m fine. I’ll be fine,” he swallowed and tried to soften his face, hoping it was a plot he wouldn’t give Lucas any satisfaction in, “Just get me out.”

 

“I will,” Redd said with a wary smile, and turned to leave the stage. 

 

The side room turned out empty, and the switch in the other was as useless as it was the first two times. Greyson watched Redd run back onto the stage and felt his heart stop.

 

Redd had never been a good actor.

 

\-----

 

He felt carpet beneath him and the remnants of knives through his spine, and heaved breath into his lungs to shout, “REDD!”

 

He felt the floor shake with Redd’s footsteps, running loud and heavy against the chiming of the grandfather clock in the room. He couldn’t look up from the floor, his vision spinning, but he could imagine the familiar tug of worry that pulled Redd’s whole face down with it.

 

“Greyson! What-”

 

“Redd, please just-” he pulled his head up, again grateful for Redd’s support as he sat up, “Tell me this isn’t real.”

 

“Grey, I don’t-”

 

“You DIED,” he grabbed onto Redd and felt the world shudder around him, maybe it was just him, “I saw you DIE.”

 

“Grey, lay down. You must’ve hit your head,” Redd said softly, and the support that was keeping him up slowly let him down, “Take a breath, okay? I’m going to get this off you.”

 

He felt more than saw Redd move to unlatch his mask, and nearly shouted as he got the mask open.

 

“Grey, it’s okay I’m just taking off-”

 

\-----

 

“Okay,” he laid still for a moment, listening to the clock chime, “Okay.”

 

He sat up, turning to face the door Redd came through a moment later.

 

“Grey? What happened?” Redd came over and knelt beside him without touching, though his hovering hands betrayed his thoughts, “I heard you fall, did you trip?”

 

“I’m fine,” he sighed and rubbed a hand across his face, “Actually, no. Everything’s wrong. I’m stuck.”

 

“Stuck? How?” Redd’s hands lowered and brushed over his legs, just enough to shift them, before withdrawing, “Are you hurt?”

 

“No, I just- I could go for a drink,” he offered his best smile to Redd, as shaky as it was, “I’ll tell you after?”

 

He didn’t look convinced, but didn’t say anything about it, “What happened to the great egg hunt?”

 

“That egg will still be here when we get back,” the thought made his stomach churn, the sound of electricity and creaking mechanisms echoing in his head, “Let’s celebrate our find, I’m certain it’s in here!”

 

“Just like when it was in the basement? Or like when it was in the library?” Redd asked, giving Grey a smirk that didn’t smooth out his brow and made him look unsettled, “I’m not buying this round, not after last time.”

 

“Then we’ll see if your brother has drink to spare, but you’re fighting him after I steal his glass and he comes for me.”

 

Redd’s snort did what his smirk couldn’t, and his expression eased as they both moved to stand. Walking away from the theatre soothed his heart, and his head, and leaving the room let him take the deep breath he’d been struggling with. Redd’s second snort drew his attention again.

 

“I wouldn’t let my brother break you, Grey,” he said with a smile, “He wouldn’t anyway, too soft.”

 

The image of Clay being soft in any way not involving Trinity or his family was a welcome distraction, and he couldn’t stop a laugh of his own, “Are we talking about the same Clay? Some other brother you have up your sleeve?”

 

“Alright, maybe he’s a bit... harsh. It doesn’t help that you step on his toes all the time.”

 

“What can I say, it’s what I do best.”

 

The two shared a laugh, and the theatre got farther away. It may have just been that place, filled with allure and danger and possibly some horrible nightmare machine made by two bastards. He let his shoulders relax bit by bit as he walked with Redd, and let himself think of what drinks Clay could be hoarding in the casino.

 

“I’m serious, though,” Redd started, words soft and eyes not quite turning to meet Grey’s, “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

 

Redd’s voice filled his head, an apology and a promise before he tried to stop something from happening. “I know,” he said, voice quiet as he looked down the hall they’d turned into.

 

The casino was quieter than he expected, but after the noise of the theatre he guessed anything would seem quiet. Redd led the way into the main room and was immediately greeted by his brother, already loud and happily buzzed if not teetering into drunk. His welcome was more a quick glare but it was better than the usual rough back slap, so he took what he could get. 

 

Clay invited them both to the table and began complaining about the robot dealer, happily shaking his brother with an arm around the shoulders with each robot-based insult and each compliment to Redd’s own skills in comparison. The staff eventually brought him and Redd a drink each, setting another on Clay’s table in an empty space, before leaving them to their own devices again.

 

“Man… It’s been a while,” Clay mumbled, looking up from the table and instead drunkenly shifting his gaze across the room, “Have any of you three seen Trinity?”

 

Grey shared a glance and smile with Redd, watching Clay try and pick which Redd he was seeing to speak to, “Did she go on a walk?”

 

Clay turned to him, not seeming to notice the steadying hand Redd set on his shoulder to stop him tumbling, “She… She said she was, said she’d be back soon…”

 

“I’ll go look for her,” he stood and tried a placating smile, “She probably got caught up in a chat with Lucas.”

 

“That’s not like her…” Clay muttered, looking back to the table. Redd flashed Grey a quick encouraging look before turning back to his own hand and leaving Greyson to wander.

 

The casino was still as quiet as it was before, and he didn’t meet anyone in his slow search of the area. It was relaxing to just walk, and he could see why Trinity did it so often rather than only to go from one task to another. He’d have to take time to walk more when he sold the Moloch Egg and didn’t need to think about work or worry, if he could ever look at it without being haunted by bands over his wrists.

 

A crash cut him out of his thoughts, coming from a few rooms over where he’d left Clay and Redd. He spun on his heel and ran back, stumbling through doors and into the main area where the robot stood but no brothers sat.

 

“A WELL DESERVED VICTORY, SIR,” the robot whirred, Grey met its face when he looked at it. He looked away and stepped around the table, breath stilling in his throat as he saw Clay’s body. The skin around his mouth was burned away, melted with something corrosive, and revealed bone past his teeth. The scene was grim, and any breath he’d been holding left him as he turned to Redd’s body sprawled on the floor, his mouth ruined like his brother’s.

 

“What,  _ what- _ ,” he hissed through his teeth, the first chime of a clock echoing through the room. He felt his hands shake again, trembling as he pushed them against his forehead and let another pained hiss out.

 

“GREY,” the robot spoke, in time with the clock’s eighth chime, “HELP THEM.”

 

He blinked, looking through blurred eyes at the dealer as the clock echoed through the room.

 

\-----


	2. He Looks for his Shadow

He sat up before the clock finished it’s second chime and stood to walk to it.

 

“Greyson?” Redd entered the room and Grey winced, “Are you alright? I heard something.”

 

“It’s fine,” he turned and stepped past Redd, heading through the door to the office. He listened to Redd’s footsteps as he was followed, and turned suddenly to catch his startled expression. He blinked at Grey before his face twisted into more familiar concern, “Grey, what’s going on?”

 

“We’re about to go into the theatre and find the Moloch Egg,” he shook his head as Redd opened his mouth. “It’s going to be in a gold cage, I’m going to touch it and get stuck to it. Then the cage will be locked, electrified, and we’re-” his voice faltered and he could barely bring his gaze up from where it’d fallen on Redd’s cravat, “Then we’ll die. I’ll watch you die.”

 

“Greyson, you’re worrying me,” he looked more frightened than worried, but no recognition settled on his face. He didn’t know, it wasn’t some crazy scheme, he should’ve been certain after Redd died the third time. His breath caught and Redd’s expression only got more terrified, “Are you sure you didn’t dream it? Had a drink and heard a story? Maybe-”

 

“Redd, it’s there. It’s in there.”

 

Redd stopped, his hands hovering in an aborted gesture Grey could only guess had been to comfort him. He dropped them and nodded, “Alright. Okay. I’ll- Let’s check? Maybe it was just a bad meal, or a dream, or… something.”

 

Grey watched him slowly and hesitantly turn away, walking out of the office, through the waiting area, and into the theatre. He followed just behind him and couldn’t build the energy to react to the egg even if Redd stilled ahead of him. His shoulders had stiffened and his spine gone straight, more so when Grey stepped up beside him, and only looked away from the egg, the cage, the  _ spikes and pylons _ , to stare at Greyson. 

 

He watched Redd think, trying to think of words, before he spoke, “How- Did you-” he laughed uneasily, “Doing reconnaissance without me?”

 

The light of the theatre and the sight of the trap strangled him, his voice reduced to a near-whisper, “You died, Redd.”

 

Redd made an odd noise in his throat and reached for his mask, undoing the fabric tie and letting it fall away from his face. It was worse like this, staring at the worry etched into his face and knowing he’d see more if the same thing happened, if he touched that bloody egg and Redd tried to save him. The honest concern was breaking the ounce of control he had over not running from this room, asking Redd to smash the egg, leaving the mansion altogether.

 

“It was a dream. Grey, it was a dream,” Redd broke the distance between them to grab his shoulder, his hand warm and comforting in contrast to the terror around him, “I’m here, whole and together and- Ha. Last time I checked the dead couldn’t talk.” His laugh was forced, his smile the same, “I can prove it, okay? Take a deep breath, I’ll show you, okay?”

 

He nodded slowly, mind trying to turn through what exactly Redd meant. It couldn’t be a scheme, he’d already proven it wasn’t. How could Redd prove it was a nightmare? All he knew about those was you woke up before you died, and he’d already done that three times over. Nothing else made sense, surely. He looked up to tell Redd as much and only saw empty space. He turned frantically, looking for Redd, before hearing a familiar click from up on the stage. He found Redd, staring in confusion and slowly dawning horror at his restrained hands.

 

Greyson stood in place, frozen until a member of staff rushed through the door to the side and slammed the cage closed. He ran up as they left the stage, heart hammering and yelling after the masked- masked  _ murderer _ . 

 

“GREY!” He spun around back to Redd, face collapsing at his expression, “My hands are trapped!”

 

“Break the egg!” he shuffled around the cage to stand where Redd could see him clearly.

 

“But- Grey this is-”

 

“It doesn’t matter!” Redd could get out, he had to, the only thing stopping him last time was the electricity and this time he was  _ inside _ . He could snap those bands like he could tear the cage open, surely, “Break it! Then- Then see there? The trapdoor! Go through that!”

 

Redd looked over and his face hardened, with a nod to Grey he strained before snapping the band away from his right wrist. With his free hand he pulled the other loose, cracking the egg as he did, and hurried over to the trapdoor on the floor. Grey watched him stare at the lock, his hands grabbing at it before freezing, and felt his own blood freeze as Redd looked up at him. “Redd,” his voice was just audible over the rising music, fragile around the edges, “Redd, please.”

 

“It’s a mechanism, for the door,” Redd shifted the lock in his hands, “I- Grey.”

 

“It’s nothing, it’s fine. Take my picks,” he shifted through his clothes for his set, throwing them in as soon as his fingers brushed against them. Redd caught them easily but made no move to use them, only grasping at them tightly and keeping them near his chest. Grey felt like yelling, running off after that  _ bastard _ and shoving them in this horrible cage, but he couldn’t leave Redd with the music hitting its peak and the announcer calling through the intercom. He looked small on the floor with his hand tight around a set of picks that looked comically tiny in his hold, and Grey wondered why he wasn’t back in front of that clock already because he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel his heartbeat-

 

“Greyson,” Redd was still watching him, his voice as quiet as Grey’s had been before, “You need to get out, the electricity-”

 

“NO! I am not leaving you! I couldn’t get out but you can!” He heard the spikes now, crawling down closer and closer, “Just- Just-!”

 

His mask, he could get his mask off and wake up. He fumbled to reach for the latch as Redd’s resignation started crumbling into panic and the music built up again. His fingers felt clumsy and broken as he struggled to get a hold of it and Redd’s breathing grew louder than the creaking machinery.

 

“Grey, GREYSON,” he managed to get a hold of his mask, latch in hand, and began tugging on it. 

 

“GREYSON, I-” He could hear the ease in the machinery’s motion, right before it fell, and wrenched his mask off.

 

\-----

 

He gasped as the clock chimed, struggling to get to his feet and staggering about the room once he had. Redd walked in to him being sick near that damned clock, and was already over before Greyson could step away. 

 

He was directed to the same couch he’d been put on before, when he’d thought it was a dream, and the thought of it all wrenched a shaky laugh out of him. Redd’s furrowed brow flashed in and out of his vision as he sat, doing something with some blanket he’d pulled from who knows where, until it finally stilled in front of him. He’d managed to get a rag from somewhere that smelled of dust and age but still could wipe the sweat, and more, away from Grey’s mouth.

 

“Greyson, what happened?” He asked, his voice soft and the whole situation nearly made Grey sick again, “I heard you fall.”

 

He tried to speak around the rasp of his throat and only managed a pained wheeze. The blanket Redd had found before was over Grey’s shoulders and pulled tighter around him when he shuddered. He felt like he was full of cotton, weary and dazed and barely able to move when Redd shifted him to open a space next to him on the couch.

 

“Sorry. I couldn’t find any water,” Redd shuffled carefully into the spot he’d freed, supporting Grey with one hand while the other vanished from sight, “I’m going to get some from the bar, unless you’re feeling up to a margarita?” His smile was reassuring in spite of it all, and Grey huffed quietly when he could return a small smile of his own.

 

“I’ll take that as a no. I’ll be right back, let me just-” he felt Redd’s other hand press on the back of his mask and his own hand struck out to grab his wrist. Redd looked shocked and Grey felt his heart freeze in his chest. He held Redd’s wrist for a moment, watching him, before slowly easing his grip. “No mask,” he looked straight at Redd, begging quietly that he understood. 

 

Redd’s face betrayed his thoughts, but his hand still pulled away from it, “No mask. Okay. I’ll get you some water.”

 

Grey mentally mapped out the path to the bar in his head, as long as Redd didn’t go to the casino, or back into the theatre, he’d be fine. Satisfied with the map in his head, he nodded to Redd and watched him stand to leave. His steps were hesitant, and every step or so he’d look back over his shoulder at Grey, until he left the room completely.

 

“Okay,” he took a shaky breath and brought the blanket up higher on his shoulders, letting it hang over his lap, “No taking the mask off, and no dying.” He laughed, “The usual then!”

 

The joke fell flat in the silence and his body slumped with it. He stretched out on the couch and moved the blanket to cover him instead, regretting letting Redd leave him alone so quickly. The clock ticked away across from him, and he gave it a half-hearted glare before letting his eyes close. Redd would be back soon with some water, and then he could think about everything. The robot from the casino crossed his thoughts for a moment before he settled, leaving it for when Redd came back.

 

The sound of the show starting in the theatre ripped him from his sleep and he sat up fast enough to send the room tilting. The blanket fell to the floor as he stood and ran over to the theatre doors, peering in and nearly collapsing in relief when the room appeared empty. He stood back then, checking the time and frowning. He’d slept for hours, hours past when Redd should have been back. A pit of dread opened in his stomach and he ignored the acrid taste on his tongue in favour of heading back out through the main hall, following the path he hoped Redd had taken to the less-popular bar nearby.

 

It was empty when he reached it, and the music coming through the door across him only aided in unsettling him. He stepped further into the bar and began a quick search, hoping there weren’t any glasses half-empty with acid.

 

He spent an hour looking, trying the hall next door and even the more popular  _ What’s Your Poison?  _ bar. The cold in the bar couldn’t compete with the emptiness, everything felt abandoned even with music echoing through the doors. He could hear a clock chiming somewhere, near the casino, and he thought of what the robot had said.

 

\-----

 

“Shit,” he muttered, glaring at the clock ahead of him from his position on the floor. He listened for a moment, sitting up as he heard Redd’s footsteps approach.

 

“I’m fine,” he started before Redd could ask, standing on unsteady feet and brushing off his tailcoat, “I need to go.”

 

“Grey, wait,” Redd came over and if Grey was any kind of artist he would be able to recreate Redd’s worried frown from memory now, “What happened? I thought I heard you fall.”

 

“I did, I’m alright,” he straightened out his tie and turned away from Redd to head toward the exit. 

 

He heard Redd make a confused sound behind him before he caught up, falling into step with Grey and looking between the hall and him. “What’s going on? You were sure we’d find the egg in there,” Redd asked, thankfully not noticing the hitch in Grey’s breath, “Did you get a new lead?”

 

“You could say that,” he tried for his usual grin, “I have a hunch we could get some… helpful information still, with the right questions.”

 

Redd’s smile poked through his concern and he laughed, “After all the questioning you’ve already done? I’d be surprised if Lucas himself has anything else after your interrogation.”

 

“We’ll see,” he replied, leaving it at that. Lucas would be a target eventually, if this wasn’t somehow his fault, but Trinity would have to come first. If Clay was the same as Redd then he’d be exactly where he was before, and if Trinity was the same as them both then she’d be headed for some kind of disaster. He hoped not, but everything was piling up around him, from the poison to the cage and to Trinity’s disappearance. 

 

He checked his watch and let his shoulders relax by a fraction; they were earlier than the last time and it was still possible they’d catch Trinity before she vanished.

 

The casino felt as quiet as it did the last time he’d come through, the music buzzing through the area rather than filling the space as it was supposed to. The grandfather clock near the entrance was loud against the music and he frowned with its ticking, “It’s louder this time.”

 

Redd blinked, head turning back and forth before settling on Grey, “What’s louder? The music?”

 

“No, I- The clock over there,” he waved his hand to it, “Maybe I just noticed it.”

 

The quick glance Redd gave the clock and the following downturn of his mouth was enough to know he’d caught Grey’s blunder; the nervous curl of his fingers even more obvious. Greyson tried to force a laugh and a smile with it, coming up just short, “Now that I’ve had a  _ second _ listen for it, it’s more  _ minute _ than I thought.”

 

It was enough to startle a laugh out of Redd, and with that his suspicion seemed to ease. He turned away from Greyson to look around the room, his arms crossed over his chest, “Well, who are we here to question?”

 

“I was thinking your lovely sister in-law,” he said, casting one last look at the clock before stepping toward the door to the baccarat tables. Redd made a considering noise before stepping around him, just in the way of the door, with an amused smile. His broad shoulders blocked the way easily and Grey barely managed to hold in a grumble at the delay. Normally the behaviour would be quite fun, a few more quips, a few well-meant jabs if they were feeling particularly cheeky, but now the clock behind him was announcing every second Trinity got further away from being found.

 

“Trinity?” Redd tilted his head to the side with his eyes still on Grey, “Thinking she’s hidden the egg in one of her statues?”

 

“Before you roll your eyes at me, it’s possible! We’ve searched everywhere else, why not in her statues?”

 

“Because she’d have told someone, probably you,” he dropped his arms and stepped out of the way, amused smile upgrading to a grin, “She still likes to break into the safe in Clay’s office and she does it with  _ your _ spare picks.”

 

Greyson didn’t hesitate to step forward and grab the door handle, but did pause at the brief flash of warmth Redd’s words inspired. He chuckled shortly, “Recognising picks and getting secrets, we’ll make a security expert of you yet.”

 

Redd’s laugh was quiet and shy, and it followed Grey into the next room as he stepped through. It was as it was last time, with a few more drinks to the side, and Clay turned with an excited grin for his brother. He rose and the two hugged, talking while Greyson glanced around the room for any sign of Trinity. It wasn’t that late and she couldn’t have been gone for the whole of twelve hours, she must have left recently if Clay wasn’t already out looking for her. He didn’t think on what he’d do if she’d left before he woke each time, it’d be something he’d have to figure out if it came up.

 

“Greyson! Keeping out of trouble?” Clay’s rough face turned to him and, for the sake of appeasing his brother, he held out his hand for Grey to shake. His grip was firmer than necessary, as usual, but he did stop before it became painful; it was an improvement at least.

 

“Keeping my options open, more like,” he forced a chuckle, “Speaking of, have you seen Trinity lately? I believe she has some information that could help me with some of this ‘trouble’.”

 

He watched Clay frown and sigh before running one of his overly large hands across his face. The mention of his wife had brought some spark into his eyes but the association with Greyson had definitely drained it, and he made to replicate that spark’s draining with a shot that he downed in one motion. “Just missed her, she went for a walk. Though if I catch you dragging her around on some scheme-”

 

“No scheme! Just a question or two,” he turned a quick smile on Redd before grinning at Clay in a way he hoped was covering his growing dread, “I heard she may have a lock to pick with me.”

 

Redd snorted, and Clay looked to the ceiling for patience. He dropped his gaze back to Greyson with a roll of his shoulders and asked, “Bad enough Redd gets your bad habits, you really have to take his as well?”

 

“Occupational hazard,” he reached out and pat Redd’s shoulder, doubling the movement as a hopefully subtle nudge toward one of the room’s exits, “We must get going then, places to be, people to see.”

 

“Oh let Redd off for the night, will you?” Clay’s hand reached out and Greyson felt the cold air cross his palm, suddenly empty of Redd’s shoulder, “I haven’t seen my brother in days.”

 

“It’s been a few hours, at most,” Redd said, though he still smiled and nodded. He seemed ready to settle in with Clay and have a few hands with Reginald’s robot, if the glances he was throwing at the table’s seats were any indication. Even the idea of letting Redd out of his sight sent a dreadful chill down his spine and, before he could really stop himself, he’d reached out to grab Redd’s wrist. 

 

He looked startled with the motion and more so with the hand on him, despite just having Grey take his shoulder. It was an interesting look, but it wasn’t as telling as Clay’s focus on his brother’s face rather than on Greyson. If he had the time he would have left his hand there, seen what either brother would have done and hopefully escaped whatever fate Clay decided was worth the unknown line he’d crossed, but Trinity was still missing; he couldn’t spend his time here when she could easily be dead in some forgotten corner. As much as Clay liked to insist otherwise, Grey enjoyed having her around for more than just lockpicking. She had a sharp sense of humour, and was wickedly excellent with plans for things from statues to games of “Hide the Rockridges’ Various Possessions”. With that thought he let Redd go, and then watched his gaze drift down to where his wrist had been held.

 

“Have fun then, I’ll be back soon hopefully one sculptor richer,” he winked at Clay, who only huffed and turned back to the dealing robot. Redd was still there, facing him now with a curious lift to his brow, and Grey lowered his voice to avoid the other Rockridge brother hearing, “Stay away from the drinks tonight, alright?”   
  
Redd stared at him for a moment, eyes flickering to the drinks table Clay had set up, “Might have already lost Clay’s  _ shot _ at that.”

 

Despite it all Grey still laughed, quiet and rough, “I can see that, only- Leave some for later? We’ll need a few of us sober to get Clay out of the casino.”

 

He nodded, “No drinks.”

 

“No drinks,” he agreed and then sighed, letting his shoulders droop in relief. At least there was one thing he didn’t need to worry about.

 

“Then,” Redd’s expression returned to the ever-familiar realm of concern and his hand hesitated before resting gently over Grey’s wrist, “You’ll tell me what’s wrong?”

 

“What’s wrong? Why would-”

 

“Playing dumb doesn’t work on me, Grey. You would’ve remembered that if everything was alright,” Redd squeezed his wrist once, softly, before letting go, “You’ll tell me later.”

 

Grey would’ve, if there was a later to tell him in. Instead he nodded and tried to smile, “I will. Watch that miscreant brother of yours for me while I look for his far more charming wife, will you?”

 

Redd snorted, concern eased in the promise of future answers, “I think I’m the miscreant brother between Clay and I, and you’re the one who made me it.”

 

“I’ll take credit for a job well done,” he offered one last smile before turning and moving out of the room. He let the door shut on the Rockridge brothers’ starting chatter before beginning his search.

 

It turned out the casino was empty, the main room the only exception, and with every minute that passed Grey could only think of the time he’d wasted not looking for Trinity. Matters were made worse when the security doors became a stopping point rather than an easily slipped annoyance; of all the times for Lucas to change the passcodes this had to be the worst. 

 

He peered through a keyhole to the hall he and Redd had entered through, muttering under his breath about certain ridiculous architects and one-way locks. The hallway came up empty and he stood with a sigh to move to the next room. 

 

The must of dust and old books surprised him as he stepped into the centre of the room, the books on the shelves appeared well cared for, if not new, and the little dust he could see by the room’s locked north door shouldn’t have been enough to create the smell. He sniffed and spun on his heel, crouching in front of the locked door and trying to steady himself to look through the keyhole. 

 

There she was, Trinity, standing in the middle of a dimly lit room he vaguely remembered Lucas describing and Thanos proudly gesturing to on a map. He stood by his decision to ignore the room in his reports as he noticed the abundance of moths fluttering gently around the room, just coming short of brushing against Trinity while she moved about the room. The dust from them all was already glistening in her hair and his nose twitched in sympathy. 

 

His decision seemed even more correct when he spotted the glowing red eyes hovering a metre or two above the floor.

 

“Trinity!” He cupped his hands around his mouth and pressed them to the keyhole, barely managing to stop himself yelling about the  _ largest spider he’d ever seen _ , “Trinity are you alright in there?”

 

He paused until he could hear her footsteps and cane faintly, approaching him, before speaking again and hoping his voice didn’t fail him, “How on Earth did you manage getting in there? The doors’ codes have been changed.”

 

“You need a keen ear,” she was closer now, and the amusement was clear in her voice, “helps if the staff think you’re “Good Lady Trinity” and won’t listen when they input the code.”

 

The tension the doors, and Trinity’s mysterious vanishing, had put on his shoulders released itself. If she’d heard the code and gotten herself inside, then she could help him get her out, “Would the good lady Trinity like me to unlock the door for her, then?”

 

She heaved a sigh, “Clay must be upset if he’s sent you, I knew it was a surprise!”

 

“I’m sure he’s just worried,” he took a glance through the keyhole again and tensed at the red eyes he could still see on the back wall, around the side Trinity’s dress, “I don’t think he knows you’re here yet, but the sooner we get back the less likely his is to know.”

 

“Is that a threat, Greyson? Sly dog, cornering a defenceless artist when she has no exit,” her laugh felt strange with everything happening at that moment, and Grey thanked whoever may have been listening that his voice hadn’t betrayed his nervousness yet. He snapped to attention as Trinity recited the code to the door, quickly inputting it and wrenching the door open to guide Trinity out.

 

“In a rush, are we?” Trinity laughed again over Greyson closing the door and making sure it was locked, “I’m not missing some  _ fun _ party am I?”

 

“Not at all, I figured you were eager to get back to Clay and let him surprise you.”

 

“That’s the first good idea I’ve heard all night, I could go for a romantic evening for two,” her smirk was enough for Grey to get her meaning; he couldn’t help chuckling and settled on stepping just behind her as she navigated the casino. She pushed open the next door, one room away from Clay and Redd, and spoke again, “In fact, I could convince Clay to surprise me another way, if you’d like some space of your own.”

 

He blinked at her for a moment before red eyes appeared in his mind’s eye, he shook his head and tried for humour, “I hardly think a solo act requires that much room.”

 

“Abandoning Redd so easily?” She laughed, “After all the running around you make him do!”

 

He felt the conversation slip away from him, confusion drawing his brow together, “Didn’t you hear all the moths in there? Some of us do enjoy not being surrounded by clothes-eating insects while searching for hidden treasures.”

 

She reached the door to the main room, tapping it once with her cane before grabbing the handle. The look under her mask was similar to the smirk she’d had before, “I doubt they’re really  _ that _ hidden, just let the moths do their work and they’ll be revealed in no time.”

 

He didn’t get the chance to reply to her or the quick upwards twitch of her grin before they were both in the room and headed toward a bored-looking Clay. He lit up at the sight of Trinity and was immediately beside her, wrapping thick arms around her waist and nuzzling into her neck. The sight would have it been sweet if not for Redd’s overbearing absence. His sweater was hung over the chair by Clay’s and a shot of whiskey sat, full, on the table in front of it, ready to be drunk and possibly ready to kill whoever did.

 

He turned to question Clay only to see him and Trinity removing their masks, looking relieved for no reason he could see. The sight of their faces softened the hard lump of dread in his chest, and it seemed the feeling was mutual as both of them smiled. Their masks were set on the table, beside Clay’s abandoned hand, and seemingly forgotten about as they turned to face Greyson.

 

Trinity spoke first, her hand around Clay’s, “I hear there’s a scheme I was supposed to be let in on?”

 

Clay rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the affection in his smile, “No scheme, he just had questions.”

 

“Ah, so questions now and the scheme when you’re not around, love?”

 

The banter was familiar, spending time with Redd looking for the egg often led to spending time with his family, but unlike usual it only aided in building that lump of dread back up in his chest. Redd was now missing, and he’d no idea for how long.

 

“Clay,” he started, trying to soften his tone when their smiles faltered, “Where’s Redd?”

 

He didn’t miss the nudge Trinity gave Clay with her elbow, but chose not to comment on it.

 

“He went to get some water, something about me being a lightweight,” he laughed, in direct contrast with the unsettled horror making its way on top of Greyson’s dread-filled chest, “Really though I think he didn’t want to admit he’s the real lightweight of the family. Can’t handle any of it!”

 

He didn’t hear any more after that, already pushing past the two of them and out of the main room. That horrible sense of  _ again _ had returned, twisting inside him and making his legs shake with every step out of the casino and toward the bars. He’d saved Trinity, and Redd had saved Clay, so they should be fine right? He could hear a clock start chiming in the distance from his place in the empty bar near the theatre, the beginning of the twelfth hour. He couldn’t find Redd in time, but Redd hadn’t touched any of the drinks so he’d surely be fine. It would be like last time, where he’d been busy off in some other part of the mansion, and all Grey needed to do was find him after the clock stopped calling and saving Trinity and Clay’s lives released him from the loop.

 

\-----

**Author's Note:**

> I'm over at @Scribblemakes on tumblr working on more content, let me know if you have any questions or spot something that needs to be fixed


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